Keep Rolling
by AsofLate
Summary: After Bella Swan attempts suicide and fails, she floats through life not knowing where she fits. New friends, some old friends, and one very sexy school counselor help her realize that maybe she does have something worth living for. B/E All Human
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: 'Tis not mine!

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**Prologue**

I'm afraid of growing apart from the ones I love. I'm afraid of not going anywhere in life. I'm afraid of not being smart enough to do what needs to be done. I'm afraid of being a fuck up. I'm afraid of death, but sometimes... I wish for it.

I am afraid.

It's not easy admitting my fears. Is it ever? I don't know. I know that when people look at me, they see this happy, easy-going girl who scoffs at weakness. To be honest, I am the weakest person I know. I'm a joke, and it feels as if the whole world is laughing at me.

Why do I kid myself?

I tell myself that I can do all of these great things, and that I can be whatever I want to be; that I can make my family and friends proud of who I am and who I will become. Then I realize it's all a big fucking lie.

I'm a big fucking lie.

When I look at the people around me, I can't help but wonder what my life would be like if I had their intelligence... their tenacity... their ability to see past the hardships in life and perservere. Wondering leads to reflection-reflection on how I'm stuck in a rut and there's no way out. I'm suffocating in an abyss of incompetence and lonliness.

There's no way out.

Is there a place for me in this world? When I'm here, I feel apart from the rest. When I'm home, I feel apart from the rest. Limbo is a fickle thing. Am I doomed to be subjected to this concept for the rest of my life? Will I ever find where I'm meant to be?

Unlikely.

I'm tired of being alone. I'm tired of being a failure. I'm tired of running on false hopes and dreams. I'm tired of being so unhappy that it's all I think about. I'm tired of looking into the smiling faces of my peers and knowing that while they carry on, I stand here, stock still, not able to put one foot in front of the other.

I am so, so tired.

Why must I feel this way? I lead a relatively normal life. I'm from a middle class family, I have friends, I have a home, I have comfort even, yet depression still clutches at me, claws its way down my throat and roots itself into the contours of my heart to blacken my soul and suck the life through my very flesh.

It's quite uncomfortable.

I am afraid of many things. I'm afraid of disappointing my loved ones. I'm afraid of never making a name for myself. I'm afraid of being alone forever. I'm afraid of drifting from the only things I've ever known. Am I afraid of change? Maybe. I'm afraid of never knowing what the world is like outside of these confined walls. I'm afraid I'm afraid I'm afraid. I'm afraid of death, but sometimes... sometimes I wish for it.

And that scares me most of all.

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A/N: Howdy! So this my first real attempt at a story here. I hope you all enjoy it! Now, this story deals with a very delicate issue: attempted suicide. It's definitely not to be taken lightly. Bella often jokes about it throughout, but it's no laughing matter. If you know someone who you think might be suicidal, please help them, even if you think they're just doing it for attention.

Another thing: Bella is very cynical during Keep Rolling, and she has a very dirty mouth. And mind. If you're easily offended by extremely dark humor, don't read it!

Go easy on me guys... I'm not a published author, so please be nice when pointing out my mistakes!

:)


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: 'Tis not mine!

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_When she contemplates suicide, she thinks of the many ways she can do it._

_She imagines the rough feel of the rope around her neck; the choking sensation of swallowing too many pills; the skip of her beating heart as she falls over the edge of a cliff._

_She imagines the cold truth of a blade; the stinging bite of a razor; the acrid burning of bleach sliding down her throat; the deafening ring of a gunshot._

_So many options; it's so easy, she thinks. So easy._

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"Bella? Could you come down here a moment? Your father and I want to talk," Mom calls from the kitchen downstairs. I sigh and throw my paint brush aside.

Leaving my bedroom, I know rather than wonder what's so important that they need to both speak with me. In the same house. In the same room. God knows they can't stand each other under normal circumstances.

My mother and and father divorced when I was ten, if only for the sole reason that they couldn't look at each other without fighting for days. Even at a young age, I noticed the hatred flowing between them in a solified stream of angry words and bitter actions.

Seven years later, I realize that they're both better off without the other. Truth be told, I hated them together more than they did, only because every time they cheated, lied, and yelled, it broke my tender, weak heart. I'm not weak anymore, though. Just done.

My mom moved to Seattle shortly after the divorce. I chose to live with my father, Charlie, because it would have been such an annoying pain in the tit to move all the way to the city when my life and my shit was already in Forks, Washington. I never said I wasn't a lazy ass.

My mom, Renee, hasn't been back to our shithole town until six months ago. I guess I can't blame her though. I did try to kill myself and whatnot.

Maybe I'm not a lazy ass. Isn't taking action considered productivity? Trying to off myself probably doesn't count. Nevermind.

Anyway, after downing half a bottle of sleeping pills, Charlie found my seizuring body laying across our worn leather couch.

The only thing I remember after swallowing those too big, chalky pills of doom is waking up in the hospital a week later. The funny thing is, the first thing I saw when I opened my crusted eyes was my brown hair tangled around my shoulders, and I remember thinking, can a girl get a fucking hairbrush around here?

But I said it aloud, and that's when I noticed my usually kempt mother sobbing next to my bed, snot running out of her nose, and clutching my hand like it was the only thing she's ever held onto in her life, and she'd be damned if she let go now.

Since then, I've been to rehab, and then finally, home. I've been condemned to this Godforsaken house for two months; no school, no friends, no life. But isn't that how I wanted it to be?

The ultimate question, however, is simple: why did I try to end my life?

Depression? Maybe. I'm bullied at school? Possibly. Shit, just pure boredom? Why not.

To be completely honest though?

I have no fucking idea why.

I might just be crazy.

Which brings me to the present, in which I'm currently en route to the kitchen to be lectured by my parents once more about how suicide is not the answer. Obviously, since it didn't work.

"What's up?" I ask, slightly annoyed that they interrupted a painting session. I've always been pretty good at painting, but ever since I got out of rehab, it's become more of a passion than a hobby.

My parents' concerned faces look to me from the table. They have papers in front of them, and they look as if they've been contemplating hard about something. Probably deciding whether or not to ship me off to an asylum.

"We've made a decision," Charlie's hesitant voice floats around the room awkwardly. I cross my arms and lean against the farthest wall from him and Renee.

"O-kay," I reply with a hint of exasperation. I want them to get on with it. I have shit to paint.

"We've decided," Renee looks to Charlie in panic for a slight second before returning her gaze to me, " that you'll be going back to school in September to finish up your junior year."

My face must look incredulous.

"That's it? That's what you guys were freaking out about telling me?"

"We weren't-we weren't exactly 'freaking out' per say.." Charlie sputters. I roll my eyes. Yeah, right.

"I'm cool with that." I'm completely calm as I say this. Why shouldn't I be? It's not like the kids at school can say any worse shit about me than I do on a daily basis. I already know I'm a fuck up, so there's no point in letting mindless assholes get the better of me. I mean, I knew I was gonna go back one day, so I've been preparing myself for when that would be.

"You're sure you're okay with this?"

I laugh lightly. "Alright Mom, Dad. I can't promise that going back to school will be easy, but I can deal. "

My parents look skeptical. I guess I don't blame them, though.

"Well.. okay, then. So, September second will be your first day," Renee states.

"Alright," I shrug before shuffling toward the kitchen doorway. "Oh, Bella, wait a second."

Hovering just outside of the kitchen, I turn back toward Charlie. "Yeah?"

"We want you to go to counseling during the school days. Just so you get back in the swing of things."

I know what he really means. Charlie and Renee want to make sure I'm not batshit crazy enough to drown myself in the bathtub or something.I sigh but relent. "Sure thing, dad."

I hurry towards the stairs wondering about school. How bad could it really be?

Famous last words.

School is hell. As soon as I pull into the parking lot and receive incredulous stares from the entire student population, I know I'm screwed.

I take a steady breath to calm myself as I open the door of my truck and step into the damp air. I ignore the eyes I feel on my back, instead focusing on reaching for my backpack and slamming the rusted door shut. Piece of shit.

I keep my gaze locked on the asphault and haul ass to the main bulding to pick up my schedule for the year. Of course, none other than Mike fucking Newton decides to thwart my harmless plan and be the crude little prick I remember.

"Hey Suicide Swan! I heard you died or some shit! You like, a zombie now?" I look over and see his dumb ass laughing around with his equally dumb ass friends and smirk.

"What's up Nutfuck Newton! Why don't you fuck off before I shove your face into a brick fucking wall!" I reply sarcastically, all while never breaking my stride. I even accent my threat with a middle finger aimed directly at Newton's dick face.

I'm a multitasker! I should add that to my list of shit I'm pretty good at.

"Hey, bitch! Why don't you go hang your-" Mike's reply is cut off by the closing of the main building's doors. Thank fucking God. Suicide Swan? Really? How original.

I step into the office and am met with the gentle, smiling face of Mrs. Cope. Well, at least she's not judging me.

"Welcome back, dear. I have your schedule right here, and also the times you'll be meeting with the new school counselor. I hope you have a good first day," Cope happily informs me.

I grin and thank her. "You're a doll, Cope. I'll come by after school and let you know how it goes."

I wave and head out of the door. When I'm far enough away from the office, I take a quick glance at my first class and about shit myself. Gym? Are you fucking kidding me? My life is officially a joke.

I sigh, suck it up, and head to the gymnasium to start the first day of hell on earth.

The beginning of the end, I think dramatically.

By the time lunch rolls around, I'm exhausted, both mentally and physically. I stand in line for a lunch tray, ignoring the whispers that aren't really whispers because I can fucking hear them. Idiots.

As soon as I have my disgusting school-regulated food, I look for the emptiest table in the cafeteria and make a bee line for it once I spot it. I'm eating peacefully when I'm interrupted, _again_. "Hi, you're Bella Swan, right?"

I look up to the owner of the voice, and Jesus, it's Emmett Cullen, the fucking captain of the football team. I roll my eyes.

"Of course I'm Bella Swan. Everybody knows who I am," I give him my best bitch face, "if you're here to ask if I've risen from the dead or what method I used to off myself, I will seriously kick you in the nuts."

His reaction is completely unexpected. He drops his tray across from me and starts laughing. Like, really loudly. People are staring.

He sits and gives me a genuine smile. Surprising.

"I just wanted to introduce myself, kid," he says in a bubbly voice. Well, as bubbly as a six-three, two hundred and thirty pound man-child's voice can get, anyhow.

I stare for a moment before deciding to reply. "Well, I also know who you are, so you can be on your merry way now."

I snap my head back down to my food, not very hungry anymore, but picking at it anyway.

"Kid-"

I interrupt him with a fiery glare.

"Um, you're like not even a year older than me. Just because you're a senior doesn't mean you can call me a kid, so stop." I have no idea why I'm so defensive, especially about a harmless nickname, but I guess I'm just fed up.

My bitchiness has no affect on him, though. He flashes his dimples before asking, "Bella, how old do you think I am?"

I run my hand through my loose brown hair, annoyed with his dumb ass question. 'Seventeen? Eighteen? I don't know, my age. I was supposed to be a senior too, before I was taken out for half a year."

I decide not to state the obvious fact that I was out of school for trying to kill myself, because, well, it's _obvious_.

Emmett smiles softly.

"I'll be twenty in January."

I choke on the fry that I'm forcing down my throat. "Um... _What_?"

He lets out another booming laugh in response to my flustered face. "I moved to Forks when I was starting my sophomore year. There was a reason why my family moved me from the big ass city of Chicago across the country to bum fuck nowhere."

I eye him carefully. "Where are you going with this?" I relent, suddenly curious and also a little nervous.

"My freshman year was rough. I was really overweight, and not in the healthy, muscle-y way, so I was picked on a lot. I would come home crying to my mother everyday because the assholes would taunt me ruthlessly. Not very manly, huh?" He smirks, so I give him a barely there smile in return.

"My brother was a dick and always hanging with all of his upperclassmen friends, and my dad was working at one of the busiest hospitals in the city as a trauma surgeon, so I guess I felt lonely. I mean, I had my mom, but she didn't really understand, because she's never been anything less than beautiful from day fuckin' one.

"So here I am, this insecure little fat dude in his second month of high school, and the seniors decide to stuff me in a trash can and roll me down a hill next to the football field. My brother didn't say one fuckin' word about it; he just watched it happen."

I notice Emmett get a little teary-eyed, but he continues without crying. Thank fucking Christ, 'cause I would NOT know how to handle that shit. I keep listening though, because my heart's kinda softening up to this giant ass dude that's reminding me more of a teddy bear by the minute.

"The worst part about it though? I was so overweight that I couldn't get out of the trash can. I was fucking stuck." I can tell Emmett's frustrated, even after all these years, so I gesture lightly for him to get it off his chest.

"What happened after?" I ask softly.

He laughs humorlessly. "After the football coach finally pulled me out of the trash can, he told me to get my fat ass off his football field so his team could practice. Not only was I mortified, but I was hurt that literally no one fucking cared enough to even help me out. Not even my own brother. The coach only did it because practice needed to start.

"When I got home, I was crying so hard and all I wanted was my mother. But she wasn't there." He looks at me with such sad, brown eyes. I feel my own brown eyes getting misty. Christ.

"She was at some charity event. Wrote me a note saying she would be back later and she loves me. I couldn't take it anymore, Bella." He takes a huge breath and dispels it. "I wrote back, telling her I was sorry, and that I loved her."

Oh. God. I choke up.

"I know what you're going through, because I went through the same thing. After I was finished with the note, I went into the garage, tied a rope to the rafters and tried to hang myself."

A sob catches in my throat. "Emmett.."

This time, his laugh has a merry ring to it. "Of course, I couldn't do that right either. I completely forgot that my brother came home at the same damn time as me, so as soon as he opened the garage door he saw me suffocating to death. He freaked out, found the first sharp thing he could, and cut me loose. By that time though, I was already unconscious, but I heard later when I woke up that he did CPR on me for thirty minutes until the ambulance arrived."

I have no fucking clue what to say. My mind is completely fucking blown at this point.

"Dude... Holy shit," is what I come up with.

He laughs. Does he ever stop laughing? Damn. "Yeah. Anyway, my brother and I became really close after that, and he actually helped me get in shape. And, well, you can see where it's lead me to," he emphasizes his point with dramatic flair by flexing his biceps. He doesn't even need to, considering the tight as hell black v-neck he's wearing already does it for him.

"I'm guessing you didn't get back into school right away, seeing as you're a twenty year old senior?" I ask.

"You'd be correct. I finished my freshman year in Chicago, at a different school, but then my parents decided it'd be better for me to attend a smaller school. They claimed it would be a much more homey environment or some shit. But hey, I can't complain; it's worked out pretty well for me," Emmett finished with the brightest smile I've seen on him yet. It's contagious. I find myself smiling like a fucking lunatic right back at him.

"I'm glad, man. So, you say you're close with your brother now. Where is he?" I'm genuinely wondering where this dick-turned-caring brother is now a days.

"Oh well he's actually-" The bell interrupts Emmett before he can finish his sentence. As people start filing out of the cafeteria, I notice our trays are still pretty full. "Well, I guess we'll both be eating big ass dinners tonight," I joke.

His booming laugh that's kinda growing on me floods my ears. "You're correct again, litle Bella."

I throw him an irritated look as we deposit our trays and head towards the exit. "What class do you have next?" He inquires.

"Biology," I start, but then suddenly remember, "Oh shit, nevermind. I have a stupid ass counseling session right after lunch every other day."

'I'm guessing today is an every other day, day?" Emmett smirks.

"Yeah," I sigh. I kinda want to continue talking to him. I find myself thinking that maybe Emmett Cullen and I could become fast friends.

I look at him as we're about to seperate to go down different hallways when I notice his smug, knowing smirk still present. "What the hell's so funny?" I demand.

"Nothing!" His nonchalance is completely fucking suspicious. "Have a wonderful counseling sesh!" He calls in a dumb voice before practically skipping down the hall.

I swear I feel my eye twitch.

By the time I make it to the main office, I'm out of breath and almost completely fucking soaked. I'm still reeling about Emmett's story, thinking of a million questions I want to ask him, which totally makes me late.

I rush past Cope, my boots making annoying squishing sounds, and give her a brief wave. I all but collapse into the counselor's office. "Sorry I'm late," I apologize, looking up.

What. The. Fuck.

The chair is empty. It's fucking empty!

I just ran across fucking campus to try and make it on time, practically ruining my new leather jacket in the process, and the new god damn counselor isn't even here!

I plop into the seat facing the only desk in the room and sulk. "This is horse shit!" I mutter, throwing my hands in the air.

"What's horse shit?" A deep voice startles me.

"Dear God!" I scream, jumping about a foot in the air and hitting my elbow on the desk in front of me. I scramble to a presentable position in my chair and glare at the doorway where the hottest fucking guy on the planet is standing.

Wait. WHAT?

To quote Dane Cook, I don't do a double take, I do like a fuckin' twelve take. My god. No words.

Artfully messy bronze hair, fitted black button up shirt, even more fitted flat front khaki pants, and black boots. He may look like a frat boy but at this point, I don't give a shit.

Don't even get me started on his face. His FACE. Strong jaw, five o'clock shadow, and green ass eyes. Are those contacts?

I realize I'm still staring at him like a fucking idiot when he cocks an eyebrow. Oh shit. He asked a question.

"Oh! Uh.. the lunch menu. It's just terrible. It tastes like horse shit," I giggle nervously. What the hell? I never giggle nervously.

He saunters to his side of the desk and gracefully sits. He turns towards his computer while I discreetly check for drool.

"You know what horse shit tastes like?" He casually asks as he types away.

I splutter.

"What? No! What the hell?"

He suddenly swivels towards me and smirks. "Bella Swan, correct?"

I'm more irritated than charmed now. "Yes," I hiss.

"I'm Mr. Cullen, it's a pleasure to meet you." He sticks his hand out for me to shake.

I lightly grab it. "Yeah, yeah, likewise."

I let go of his hand and inspect my nails, trying to act as nonchalant as possible. I hope it's not obvious that my insides are fucking melting just by glancing at Cullen. Cullen.

CULLEN.

"No fucking way!" I screech. By now I'm standing with my palms planted firmly on the desk.

"Ms. Swan, please contain yourself," Cullen lectures, an annoyed glint in his fuckhot eyes.

"You're totally Emmett's brother!"

"You're point?"

"My-My point?" I'm so flabbergasted that I can't even remember if there was a fucking point to begin with.

"Sit down, Ms. Swan, and we can lay out some ground rules for your visits," he says professionally.

I probably look like a crazy fucking she-beast right now, but I don't care.

I explode. And not in the sexual way.

"No! No fuckin' way dude! This whole day has been complete and utter bullshit! First, Nutfuck Newton has to go and convince the _entire_ school to call me Suicide Swan, which is _horse shit_ because I thought people were supposed to support idiots like me, not fucking tear them down! Then, gym sucked ass because Lauren Mallory kept tripping me every time I walked passed her, which, sorry Cullen, but I almost punched her in her slut face.

"Tyler fucking Crowley kept annoying the shit out of me in Art, which is the _only_ class I actually fucking like by forcing me to watch him act like he's slicing his wrists, which um, hello? I swallowed a bottle of fucking pills! Where do people come up with this shit?

"Finally, Emmett Cullen has to go and blow my fucking mind by telling me how he tried to off himself too and come to find out his _brother_ is the new counselor! _What the fuck_!"

By the time I'm done with my rant, I realize I'm pacing and clutching at my hair. Dammit. He probably thinks I belong in the looney bin. Good first impression, Swan.

I sneak a glance at him and see that he's resting his chin in one hand and using the other to play with a stray pen.

"So you know Emmett, huh?" His question catches me off guard.

"Uh, yeah, I guess," I reply, feeling self conscious.

"So I don't have to tell you why I have a degree in psychology and chose to be a high school counselor."

I look at him like he's crazy. He gestures to take a seat so I do. Suddenly, I feel really fucking tired.

"Bella," he says in a soft voice, "I'm here to help you. I want to help you get to the roots of your problems and solve them with you. Whatever you say in this room will always be confidential, and I'll never judge you."

It's the eyes that do me in. Such sincerity. So genuine.

For the first time in a long time, I cry. Hard.

Cullen hands me a bunch of tissues and places his hand on mine in a show of comfort. Is it inappropriate? Maybe. But it doesn't matter, though.

For the first time since I almost died, I don't feel so lonely anymore.

* * *

A/N: Okay so... First Chapter! I'm nervous. Gaahh.

Let me know what you think?

:)


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